Chapter Text
Your name is JOHN EGBERT, and you are currently struggling to put on your lapel mic.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Egbert.” Your best bro, DAVE STRIDER, reaches across the table and plucks the mic out of your hands before deftly clipping it to the collar of your Ghostbusters t-shirt. His hair smells like strawberries, and you almost follow him when he leans back.
“Whoa there, Johnny-boy.” He flicks your forehead, smirking when you cry out. “I’m flattered and all, should’ve known you would never be able to resist this prime cut of Strider Beef™️ for long, but I’m no hussy, I’m a classy gal, ya hear? You gotta take me on a date first, somewhere fancy like Olive Garden, butter me up with those breadsticks before I can even begin to consider your breadstick-”
“ Ew, Dave!” you laugh, trying not to show off how flustered you feel- for some reason, your face feels hot, and your stomach keeps doing flips like flapjacks. “Did you just compare my dick to a breadstick?”
“No, keep up Egbert, I compared your meat mallet to an Olive Garden breadstick, which is honestly the biggest honor any Boy Scout Jr. could ever dream of receiving. And I am giving it. To you. Specifically to the party you’re packing in your pants-”
“I leave for one minute- one fucking minute- and what do I come back to?”
“Karkat!” You smile, trying not to laugh at the disgruntled look on your other best bro’s face. Said best bro, named KARKAT VANTAS, stands in the doorway with his hands in his pockets and shoulders slouched like they always are. You try to brush off the instinctive cringe and need to correct his posture like your dad used to-
Nope! Not thinking about that right now!
“Did you find the lens cap?” you ask, trying to beat back the dark clouds before they can swoop in.
“No, I did not manage to find the cap for the lens of Strider’s shitty fucking video camera-”
“You take that the fuck back, Vantas- Melissa is not shitty you utter fucking-”
“Oh great, you even named it? Does your idiocy know no bounds? Are you compensating for your galling lack of think cells by naming your video camera something so utterly inane it makes everyone else with a functioning think pan want to bash themselves into a gogdamn wall before throwing their bruised and battered body into a dross coffer-”
“Guys, don’t fight!” You hate it when they get like this- it’s like everyone else in the room just disappears to them while they get lost in their little spiral of hate. Secretly, you suspect they’re in that one troll quadrant with all the hate romance- kissy-missy, maybe? Which wouldn’t be a bad thing- you might not be a homosexual, but you definitely support them, especially if your good pals Dave and Karkat turn out to be homosexuals!
You just. Wish they wouldn’t make you feel like you might as well not be there. That’s all.
“Seriously, we’re wasting time- we need to get there at sundown to meet Mr. Mehta from the preservation foundation, and it’s almost 7!”
“It’s 6:47,” Dave says, but he backs off of Karkat all the same. “Where are we going anyway?”
You click your tongue, annoyed. “Come on, Dave- I already told you this! A million times!”
“Alright well, tell me again. Come on Egbert, the millionth-and-first-time won’t hurt you.”
“Ugh, fine!” You gather your notes and clear your throat dramatically before launching into the story. “So today we’re going to be heading over to the Morrison house in the Human Kingdom, also known as the ‘Murder Mansion’. This is because over the house’s century-long existence, over fifteen people have been killed in various, gruesome ways inside its walls, including a family of five who were first thought to have committed suicide, but later discovered to have been poisoned by an unusual mineral found in their water supply. Often called one of the Human Kingdom’s most haunted houses, the Morrison mansion is currently uninhabited and under the ownership of a preservation foundation who’s graciously allowed us entry so that we can prove, once and for all, the existence of supernatural beings.”
“Like ghosts?”
You look up and blink, confused. “Yeah, of course. Dave, did you forget why we’re doing this? Like, the whole entire point of this show?”
“No, just- CUT!” You jump, whirling to look at Karkat who sends a thumbs-up to Dave. “We’ll add in Egbert’s answer to that in post-production, maybe have it be over a snazzy title card or something.”
“Sounds good,” Karkat says, before capping the camera. “Congrats Egbert, you managed to get through your dumb little speech without fumbling once- how does it feel to finally have reached the ranks of beings with functional speaking skills? Think you can move on to higher skills like ‘thinking’ or ‘reading comprehension’ yet?”
“What? What do you mean?” you ask. Realization hits you like a bolt of lightning. “Wait, did- were you just recording?”
“I take it back, you’re definitely not ready to move onto higher skills-”
“What Karkat means to say,” Dave cuts in, glaring at Karkat before he turns back to you, a soft smile on his face, “is that yes, he was recording, and yes, we planned not to tell you when you were recording so that you wouldn’t become all self-conscious and shit. And it worked- you sound like a complete natural dude. Seriously, those words were just flowing off your tongue like a child pouring grape juice onto his mom’s pristine, white tablecloth made of actual cloth that she keeps in reserve for special guests, even though he knows he shouldn’t but fuck that because viva la revolución -”
“What Dave means to say,” Karkat butts in, hissing when Dave sticks his tongue out at him, “is that- you did good, John. Real good. Keep, uh. Keep it up, I guess.”
Wow, your face feels really hot. Like, it might actually be flaming, it’s so hot! Also your stomach’s flipping like a goddamn acrobat now, looking at both of their proud, smiling faces.
They did that for you. This entire ghost hunting project was your idea, they didn’t even want anything to do with it, and you thought that they’d get more and more frustrated with you each time you messed up saying the introduction. Which, looking back, they kind of did… but they also worked together to make sure you were comfortable enough to speak on camera, hell, made sure you even forgot the camera was there!
Gog, you love your friends so much.
“Thanks guys,” you say finally, grinning like an utter maniac. “Seriously just- thanks. You’re the best bros a bro could ask for.”
“And don’t you forget it, Egbert-”
“Don’t mention it-”
The two of them speak over each other, and they glare, mid-sentence, when they realize what’s going on. You can’t hold back, and so you burst out laughing at the looks on their faces.
“Why you-”
Before you can react, Dave’s jumping over the table to give you a noogie. You gasp, wheezing with laughter as you try to tug him off, but he stands strong, unmoved by your futile arm movements.
Eventually, you yield. “Uncle,” you gasp out, tapping Dave’s arm, and he backs off, though not without one more playful ruffle to your hair. You stick your tongue out at him and try to fix the mess he left behind.
“Dave,” you say- not whining, you’re a grown man now, with MANGRIT, and a god besides, and gods and men don’t whine. “Ugh, you jackass, it’s gonna take me forever to fix my hair now.”
“Honestly man, I don’t even know why you try to fix it- your hair’s like if a rat nest decided to make sweet, sweet love to a bird’s nest, and then nine months later, out pops your lovely toupee-”
“Not to interrupt this insipid conversation, but didn’t Egbert say we had to be at the house by sundown?”
The three of you turn to the window. Outside, the sun is uh. Definitely going down.
“SHIT!”